Breakin's What the Heart Is For
by gypsywriter135
Summary: Five people who left Gilbert, and the one who never did.


Holy, shit. This turned out a lot longer than I intended... But I suppose that's okay when I read back on it...

ANYWAYS.

I wanted to try out one of those "Five times/and the one time" prompt/theme thingys that I see all the time. And I've had some of these idea swimming around in my head for a while, and when I tried to put them together, I was like, "OMG! It'll be perfect for one of those prompts because they're all basically the same story!"

And thus this was born.

So I hope you enjoy it! It took me all week to write. Just finished a few hours ago. I'll do some more explaining at the end, but for, please read these important notes:

**Notes!**

**- My headcanon name for Germania is Wilhelm and for Holy Roman Empire is Caesar.**

**- I've also got the impression that HRE is older than Prussia, so for this fic, please make sure you realize that that is how I wrote the two.**

And now for the _**Disclaimer: I own nothing,** **sadly...**_

_**Warning! Mentions of Holocaust. If you don't like, don't read.  
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><p>Germania was the first.<p>

Not many people remember Wilhelm's disappearance, but the few who did never forgot the way Gilbert acted for decades afterwards.

The poor boy was still a small territory, hardly big enough to be considered a nation. He barely cam up to a grown man's waist, and his brother, though much older, wasn't much bigger. His weak body was hardly strong enough to support himself, let alone a younger brother who had almost no place in the world.

Other nations remember the small albino boy climbing the large tree that sat outside Wilhelm's little cottage every morning before dawn. He'd climb to the highest branch of the tree and sit with his back against the trunk, tiny legs stretched out on the branch. He'd watch the road that led to their home, sunrise to the east, as he'd wait for his grandfather to return.

Caesar would awake soon after. He'd sigh when he'd see his brother's bed empty, and quickly dress. He'd walk outside and stand at the foot of the tree.

"Gilbert, come down," he'd call.

The only sign of recognition that he ever got was the rustle of leaves.

"If you don't come down, I'm not going to bring you back anything from town."

There was no answer forthcoming.

Sighing, Caesar turned back to the house. He'd grab his traveling coat, a small pack, and leave out some bread, just in case his stupid brother would come to his senses and come down to eat. Then, he'd lightly shut the door, turn down the road, and head into the small village that sat at the bottom of their little hill.

It would be almost dark when he'd return, sack full of purchases, a few special treats for Gilbert tucked at the bottom.

But as he neared their cottage, shadow stretched out long before him, he could see the small white bundle shift against the tree. Hopes up, he'd pick up the pace.

Gilbert would come running to meet him.

The smile on his face that fell every time he saw Caesar broke the blonde's heart just a little every time it happened.

"I thought you were Vati…" Gilbert would mumble, red eyes downcast as he fell to his knees in the ground.

"Sorry to disappoint," Caesar muttered back. He knew that Gilbert loved him. They were brothers, and Vati had taught them that family was the most important thing in the world.

But Caesar also knew that he could never measure up to their grandfather, at least in Gilbert's eyes.

Wilhelm had stumbled across the poor boy long ago. He'd had neither food, nor shelter, and stole whatever he could from the small town that hated him and drove him out. "Demon child," they'd called him. An albino was rare, it was true, but that was no way to treat a child, especially one that had no family and nowhere else to go.

When the strong nation had discovered this, he had taken the boy in, cleaned him up, given him food and a bed.

He never told him he couldn't stay there.

The blonde had adopted him, and though Caesar had been wary at first, he soon realized that Gilbert wasn't so bad. Besides, he had someone to look after now, and he was okay with that.

Gilbert quickly warmed up to them when he found out that they weren't going to abandon, poison, or hurt him, and they were soon a happy little family.

Now, Caesar simply ruffled the boy's hair, then moved his hand to his shoulder. "Come on, I'll make you some dinner."

"I'm not hungry…" was the sullen response, but Gilbert stood all the same and followed his brother into their house.

Caesar frowned at the untouched bread as he set his pack on the table. "You haven't eaten all day."

"I said I'm not hungry!" Gilbert growled, flashing him a glare.

"Don't you talk to your brother that way!" Caesar shot back. His face softened when he saw the guilty look on the younger's face. "I'll make you some soup. Go wash up and by the time you're done, it should be finished."

After a tense pause, Gilbert shuffled off to the washroom. "Fine…"

The small blonde sighed as he slowly gathered the things he had gotten and began preparing their dinner. When Gilbert emerged from the washroom later, two mugs of steaming hot soup were set on the table. The two boys crawled into their respective chairs.

"Would you say a prayer, Gilbert?" Caesar asked softly.

"Huh?" Gilbert whipped his head away from gazing out of the window.

"Prayer?" Caesar lifted a golden eyebrow.

"Oh… right…" Gilbert clasped his hands together in front him and closed his eyes. Caesar followed suit. "Dear God above," the albino began. "Thank you for this meal on our table and the roof over our heads. Thank you for the sun and the animals. Thank you for mien bruder and… and…" Gilbert's voice died, and when Caesar opened his eyes, he saw the young boy looking longingly out the window.

"Thank you for watching over us," he finished, startling Gilbert out of his trance.

"Ja," Gilbert agreed, red eyes slipping back to the window before he brought a spoonful of his meal to his mouth.

Caesar sighed, and concentrated on his own meal.

When he was finished, he climbed down from his chair and took his empty bowl to set it in the small tub to wash it. Gilbert was staring out the window at the small road, meal all but forgotten. Caesar took his bowl, shoveled the remainder of the cold soup into the bucket of other disposables, and started washing the bowls.

Once they were drying on their tiny little table, Caesar turned to find that Gilbert had moved from the table to the window, red eyes watching hopefully.

Several hours later, the blonde dragged the now sleeping albino to their shared bed and tucked him in. He made sure the candles were out, the door tightly shut and windows covered before crawling in next to him.

Tomorrow, Gilbert would be up before him again, sitting in the tree once more as the sun rose, waiting.

Caesar didn't have the heart to tell him that their Vati wasn't coming back.

000000000000000

The second was Holy Rome.

Francis remembers the day well. It was his doing, after all. But that didn't prepare him for what his friend had to bear afterwards. Even today, he's not one hundred percent sure that Gilbert forgives him for it.

It was right after the battle. The Frenchman was walking through the dead bodies, searching for his own and ordering the generals that followed him to dig them out and bring them back to camp, so that they may be buried back home, where they belong.

When the blonde made his way through the forest and came to the small valley that the battle had began in, he stopped.

Gilbert was frantically searching the fallen men, flinging many of them aside without a care. He'd stop and kneel, his armor clanking loudly as it met with the hard ground. He grabbed a soldier lying on the reddened soil, only glancing at him briefly before shoving him away and turning to the next one. Francis kept quiet until one of the men Gilbert threw let out a small groan.

"Hey!" the blonde shouted, quickly running forward. He didn't know if the man was of his nation or not, but either way, Gilbert couldn't just let the man die out here. If he was injured, there was a chance that he could be saved.

His tracks stopped when the albino, startled by the outburst, whipped around, his arm drawing his sword as a reflex. He held it shakily out to point at Francis.

"Go away," he growled. He had grown since his grandfather had disappeared, and now resembled a young, teenaged boy. The younger nation now reached Francis' shoulders in height, still plenty of room to grow.

But while he had grown strong, his brother had grown weak. Caesar was still the small little boy that he had been for centuries. No one could figure out why, but Francis and a few others assumed that it was because he wouldn't be around much longer, so why bother growing…

That didn't mean that Gilbert was the older brother, however. He still needed caring and nurturing, especially now, when he was just beginning to rise to power. He needed guidance, and still looked to Caesar in his times of need.

Like right now.

Francis held his hands up in the air, showing the boy that he wasn't going to hurt him. Gilbert's red eyes regarded him suspiciously, but the sword lowered, slightly.

"I said go away!" he repeated.

Francis shook his head. Hands still held up, he slowly pointed to the injured man below them. "Gilbert, that man needs help. You can't just leave him here."

"I can and I will!" Gilbert spat. "Or maybe I'll just kill him myself! I don't care!"

Blue eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"

Red eyes narrowed. "Watch me."

Right as he was about to swing down, Gilbert stopped. Francis' head shot around, both of them looking for the small sound.

"Gil..."

It was soft and faint, but both nations heard it all the same. Gilbert quickly sheathed his sword and hurried towards the voice, Francis following slowly and cautiously behind.

"Caesar!" he yelled, head turning to and fro, searching desperately for his brother. "Bruder!"

"Here…"

With a cry, Gilbert leapt forward, stumbling before he fell to his knees. When Francis caught up with him, he cringed slightly.

A small, bloody boy was cradled in Gilbert's arms, his armor pierced in the most horrific of ways. His blonde hair was so matted with blonde that if you hadn't known him, you would have never had known that was his real hair color. Blood oozed slowly from every injury, and trickled out of the boy's mouth and nose.

"Bruder…" Gilbert murmured, gazing at his brother with huge, scared eyes. He shot a glance to Francis. "Please, help me! He needs help!"

Francis opened his mouth to reply, but the injured boy was faster.

"Nein," he whispered, and Gilbert quickly returned his gaze back to him. "Gil… I am… beyond help…"

The teen simply stared at him. "What…?" he choked.

"My time… has come…" Caesar struggled. He coughed, blood spurting onto Gilbert's battle gear, but the albino paid it no notice.

"Nein…" Gilbert muttered. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. "Nein, nein, nein, nein!"

When he opened them, he shot an angered glare at the silent Frenchman. "This is you're fault!" he yelled, and one of his hands made to move from the hold he had on Caesar to his sword. "You did this! I'll kill you, you French bastard! I'll kill you!"

Francis took a step back from the angered boy, but it was not needed. Caesar summoned up enough strength to raise a hand and put it gently on Gilbert's arm, halting him.

"It is not his fault," he breathed. His blue eyes bore into Gilbert's own red ones. "I am no longer a part of this world…" He coughed again. "I am no longer needed…"

"That's not true!" Gilbert cried, clutching Caesar closer. "I still need you! You're mein bruder! What am I supposed to do without you?"

Caesar moved his bloodied hand to cup Gilbert's face. The teen desperately held it against his cheek.

"It is your time, Gilbert," he whispered. His eyes began to slowly slide shut. "You must now rise or fall on your own."

"Bruder, nein!" Gilbert whimpered. "I don't know what to do! You're going to be okay, you'll see! You _have_ to be okay!"

There was no answer.

"Bruder?" Gilbert shook the boy gently. When there was no response, he shook him a little harder. "Bruder, wake up…"

Silence.

"Caesar?"

Nothing.

"Bruder, come back…" Francis winced at the crack in Gilbert's voice. He watched as the teen curled over the unmoving body of his elder brother, forehead touching the boy's chest. "Come back…" His shoulders shook with sobs and rivers of tears began to fall down his cheeks, creating a break in the dried blood.

"Come back…"

Francis silently stood there, unable to tear his eyes away from the heartbreaking scene.

The Holy Roman Empire was dead… and he wasn't coming back…

000000000000000

The third was Old Fritz.

Everyone knew that Gilbert loved the man. The king had treated the boy like a son, and under his rule, Prussia had flourished. Gilbert had grown so much in just a few short decades, and he was now one of the most powerful empires in the world.

It was no wonder that when the man's heart stopped that he would be devastated.

He had apparently been the one to find the body, and his screams were heard all over the castle. Guards and maids came running, towards the tortured sound, coming to a halt just inside the king's chambers.

Gilbert was kneeling beside armchair of the king, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The only sign that he was gone was the failure of his chest to fall and rise.

"What happened?" Tanner, one of the guards asked. He was young, not quite out of his teens just yet, and very new at the palace. Fritz had hired him because he said that he reminded the man of Gilbert.

The nation, of course, had not been amused.

"Get the fuck out!" Gilbert screamed, throwing the small mass of people a heated glare.

"Admiral, we-"

"I said to get the fuck out!" Gilbert stood, hands balled into fists at his sides.

"But, if something is wrong with His Majesty, then-"

"Do you not know how to listen?" Gilbert yelled. The group flinched at his loud voice. "I told you to get out! There's nothing wrong with Fritz because… because…" his voice trailed off, and his gaze shifted to the man sitting in the chair.

"Because he's dead…" one of the maids whispered in a choked voice.

"Shut up!" Gilbert shouted, eyes returning to the people. "Don't say it!"

Around him, the maids were beginning to sob. A few of the guards removed their headgear, laying it on their chests as they bowed their heads. Tanner was speechless. The king… was dead? No… no, it couldn't be!

The young guard looked back at the scene in the room. Admiral Beilschmidt was standing there with his arms at his sides, his fists clenched tight. He stared down at the floor, shoulders shaking.

Tanner knew that the Admiral and the king had been close. They were almost always together, and when they weren't, they were never far apart. He remembers when he was first inducted into the king's guard unit that the other guards had a small wager on whether or not the two were lovers.

It wasn't such a far-fetched theory. Out of the entire army, the Admiral was the only one who had private quarters on the Royal Floor. The rest of the armored guards had to stay on the first floor, in shared room with at least three others. They ate in the mess hall behind the kitchen, and used the washroom that the servants used.

But the Admiral had his own room. He ate with His Majesty, had his own washroom, and was allowed to go anywhere in the castle, whenever he wished.

When Tanner had asked the men where they were allowed to go, he was told the common passages, the washroom, and wherever he was assigned at that time. Anywhere else in the castle was off limits.

So it was no surprise that the rumors had started. No one was allowed in the Royal Chambers, but the Admiral strolled in and out like he owned them.

Sometimes, he would enter in the evening, and then exit the next morn before breakfast. Not many of the guards knew this, but word travels fast in a group as close knit as theirs.

A scream tore through the room, and the small audience's attention was brought to the Admiral. He had turned on his heel and was striding towards the bed on the far end of the room. Upon his reaching it, he took a handful of the luscious cover and tore it off the bed. Spinning slightly, he threw it across the threshold before doing the same to the sheets underneath.

From there, he moved to the curtains hanging on the tall windows. With a cry, he tore them down, ripping them off with a fury. Those found themselves on the floor with the sheets as well. The man grabbed the candles on the table next to the bed and threw them through the window, glass shattering. The table was promptly knocked over.

Books were thrown from shelves. Vases were smashed. Paper was ripped from the walls.

But the armchair was never touched.

When the hurricane was finally over, Gilbert was standing by the bed once more, breathing harshly through his mouth.

"Um… Admiral…?" Tanner said softly.

The man's head shot up, red eyes a little wide as if he realized for the first time that people were watching him. He seemed to recover quickly enough, and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he snapped.

"Uh… well…" Tanner stuttered. He felt the rest of the help take a small step away from the line of fire. "I was… just thinking…" he hesitated slightly as the man's unnerving red eyes bore into him.

"Thinking what?" Gilbert spat.

"Well… um…" Tanner stumbled over his words, trying to make them sound as less offensive as possible. "Don't you think… um…. That we should, maybe…"

"For Gott's sake, spit it out!" The furious creature before them raged.

Letting out a small squeak, Tanner gulped before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Perhaps… we should move His Majesty… to a more proper place before preparations are made?"

Oh, Gott…. What had he done?

The air around him seemed to still. Across the room, Gilbert stared at him, red eyes blazing. For a long while, no one moved. No one spoke. Tanner didn't think anyone even breathed. Nobody dared too.

"You're the new guy… Tanner… ja?" Gilbert suddenly asked, straightening.

The guard blinked. "Ja…" he affirmed, slightly surprised by the reaction.

Suddenly, the poor man had a face full of furious Admiral as Gilbert strode across the room and grabbed a handful of his chainmail.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," the man snarled. "Who the fuck are you to dare try and tell me otherwise?"

"I-I-I-I was j-j-just th-thinking that-" Tanner stuttered, terrified of his predicament. The rest of the servants and guards had fled at some point, so he was now alone.

"YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO THINK!" Gilbert screamed. Tanner winced. "I WILL MOVE HIM WHEN I AM DAMN READY TO MOVE HIM! AND NO ONE, ESPECIALLY SOME INEXPERIENCED MAMA'S BOY WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT, IS GOING TO TRY AND TELL ME THAT I FUCKING CAN'T!"

Tanner flailed as he was shoved roughly backwards. Gilbert shot him a glare as he scrambled to catch himself.

"Now get out!" the Admiral cried.

Not needing to be told twice, Tanner hurried out the way he had come. As he ran, he chanced a look over his shoulder.

Gilbert had fallen to the floor at the feet of the dead monarch and was resting his head against the cold knees. Tanner rounded the corner and came to a stop, resting his hands on his knees as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

At some point, he gained enough courage to peek around the stone wall.

The pale Admiral had taken the king's cold, lifeless hand in his own and was tenderly rubbing his fingers over it.

"Please…" he muttered, so softly that Tanner almost didn't catch it. He had to strain to hear the rest. "Fritz, please…" Gilbert's voice wavered ever-so-slightly. "Please don't leave me alone…"

Hiding behind the corner once more, Tanner swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn't think that anyone would be winning any bets tonight. Or ever. Because right now, the Admiral sounded like he had just lost his father…

…And how do you tell a son that no matter how much you plead, Death will never surrender those he had already taken…?

000000000000000

The fourth was Germany.

Ludwig was, and always had been, Gilbert's golden boy. Every time the little blonde boy was in the room, the war nation's entire demeanor softened. Even after he was grown, Ludwig was Gilbert's pride and joy. He taught him to be strong, gave him his virtues, looked after him, and gave him the best of everything that he could.

And Ludwig looked up to Gilbert. When he was little, he followed his older brother around, like a puppy yapping at his master's heels. Gilbert indulged him, finding that he had a hard time denying the boy anything.

He read him stories. Played games with him. Gave him his first puppy. Taught him how to fight.

Gilbert learned a few things from Ludwig too.

He learned how to open up a cold, hidden heart that was buried under centuries of heartbreak and let-downs.

He learned how to love again.

Then World War I happened.

The "war to end all wars," was what it was described. But all it did was leave Ludwig high and dry, struggling to pull himself out of the hole that he had dug. Gilbert tried to help as much as he could, but there wasn't much that he could do. He visited his brother as often as he could, helping him clean up the mess that he had made. Many times he stayed long after Ludwig had retired for the night, diligently working through the night before making breakfast for his brother and taking his leave.

Ludwig was his main focus, as he always had been.

Just when Gilbert thought things were finally dying down and perhaps Francis would give him a break, Ludwig had to go and do the unthinkable.

World War II.

To this day, the image still haunts Gilbert. The horrid things that his brother did, the way he acted, the things he said. It had been like his brother had been possessed. No matter what Gilbert had done, Ludwig had ignored him. Anything he said went unheard.

The day that Ludwig finally surrendered, Gilbert felt like he could breath once more.

The Allies had taken them both as prisoners, Kiku too. The three were kept in separate cells, on the other side of their tiny prison building from each other.

For weeks, they were kept there... until that one fateful day that changed his life forever.

Francis showed up at his cell door one night. Gilbert peered at him groggily, red eyes blinking the sleep from his eyes as the key rattled in the lock.

"Come with me," the Frenchman told him, producing a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"Now?" Gilbert yawned. He looked at the position of the moon through the small window above his head. "It's nearly midnight."

"I am aware of what time it is," Francis said. "Get your filthy ass over here before I do something else that I'm going to regret."

If Gilbert took notice of the words, he didn't show it. Instead, he rose from the ground, cracking his joints as he did so. He casually strode up to his old friend and held his hands out in front of him, head tilted slightly to the side.

"I'm assuming that this isn't one of your kinky moments," he said, giving the other man a small smile.

Francis glared at him as he snapped the cuffs over the thin wrists. Gilbert shrugged, the metal chain clanging slightly.

"Just trying to make conversation."

"Well stop," the blonde snapped. "You have more important things to worry about." He grabbed Gilbert's upper arm and led him out the door towards the steps.

"Like what?"

Francis jaw clenched tight. Gilbert was a little unnerved, though he didn't show it. Not much was able to make his old friend act this way. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Gilbert looked up to see Arthur with a tight grip on Ludwig, also in a similar predicament. A glance to his left showed that Yao had a tight grip on Kiku.

Gilbert grinned and raised his hand to wave at his brother, giving him a smile. "Heya, West! You've been quiet, lately."

"Bruder, please," Ludwig muttered, giving the older man a half-hearted glare.

Gilbert shrugged and turned his gaze to the Japanese man. "Didn't really expect much chatter from you, Kiku," he said. "Still would have been nice to hear your voice, though."

Kiku sighed. "I am still feeling unwell."

"Enough talking," Arthur said sternly. "Up you get." He pushed the tall blonde gently up the steps, following closely behind. Francis made Gilbert do the same, followed by Kiku and Yao in the rear.

When they reached the top, Gilbert blinked, eyes adjusting to the change in light. Francis and Arthur led the two brothers through a few rooms of the building that they were currently using before coming to a large conference room, much like the ones used for their World Meetings.

The only thing that was different was that there was a single, long table. Alfred and lvan sat behind it, two empty seats on either side of the American. Three more empty seats sat in front of the table. It was these that Arthur and Francis steered their captives. Their cuffs were removed briefly before they were tightly secured to the arms of the chairs. The other three nations quickly took their seats on the other side of the table.

"Let's get this over with quickly," Alfred sighed. He had large bags under his eyes. "I'm tired."

"Maybe if you held this thing at a reasonable hour…" Gilbert muttered. Ludwig kicked his chair and shot him a glare.

Alfred continued like he hadn't heard his old mentor. "Kiku Honda, Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt, you are hereby accused of several crimes; several counts of murder, intent to kill, invasion of another country, and disruption of peace."

"Oh, yeah, 'cause what we had before was could really be called 'peace'," Gilbert snorted.

"Bruder, stop!" Ludwig hissed.

Alfred glared at them both. "How do you plead?"

"Guilty," Kiku sighed.

"Guilty," Ludwig said, blue eyes downcast in shame.

"Guilty," Gilbert echoed, accompanying his answer with a nonchalant shrug.

"Gilbert, for once in your life, act like a fucking adult," Francis said, pounding his fist on the table.

The albino blinked. It was rare that the Frenchman lost his cool like that.

"Oh, come on," he drawled, slouching as much in his seat as he could. "Just give us the bill and send us on our way. What's with all this formality bullshit?"

"We're… trying something new…" Yao said quietly, eyes sliding to land on the sandy-haired teen in the middle. Kiku twitched uncomfortably.

"So what is it?" Gilbert continued. "We gonna have to do manual labor or something? You gonna have us imprisoned like we did to those people?"

Ludwig and Kiku shivered. The small Asian man didn't like what was happening. Sure, he, Ludwig, Lovino and Feliciano had all played a part in those camps, but Gilbert had been very unsettled by them and had tended to stay away from them as much as possible.

He had gotten quite sick to the stomach when he had seen a small group of albinos shot down in a matter of seconds. Kiku wasn't even sure that Ludwig knew about the incident.

"Not quite," Arthur said. He shot a glance at a surprisingly quiet Alfred. "But we have to make sure that something like this doesn't happen ever again."

"Ja, I get ya'," the Prussian mumbled. "West and me'll never do that again. You have our word. Now just give us our fucking punishment and lets get on with the rest of our lives!"

"Oh, we will," Arthur replied.

"You won't…" Alfred finished.

Kiku bristled.

Gilbert blinked. "What?"

He was ignored. Alfred turned to the blonde German.

"Ludwig," he said. "You were under the rule of a man named Adolf Hitler, correct?"

Eyes meeting his brothers in confusion, Ludwig nodded. "Ja…" he agreed.

"And he was the mastermind behind this entire thing, yes?" Arthur asked.

Ludwig nodded.

"Did you knowingly engage in his activities?" Francis this time.

"Um… yes?"

"And did you have a problem with that?" Ivan now.

"Uh…" Ludwig hesitated, blue eyes flicking all around the room. "I… I guess at first I did, but… then I was okay with it…"

Kiku had the feeling that everyone in the room had forgotten about him. He sat silently, quietly observing the proceedings with a heavy heart.

"And now?" Yao asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"I realize that what I did was horrible…" Ludwig admitted, head bowing. "All those people…"

"Ludwig," Arthur jumped in. "Your boss, Hitler, was a huge admirer of Frederick the Great, no?"

Gilbert sat up, eyes narrowed. Kiku could see the anger in his eyes.

The Prussian admired his king so much. He spoke with love every time he was brought up, and fondness of the tales he told to Kiku spoke volumes of how much he truly loved the man. Gilbert had once told Kiku that he may have loved him in a way that taboo for nations to love a mortal human.

He really hoped that the Allies weren't going to go where he thought they were headed…

Ludwig glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Ja…"

"And Gilbert… he was one of your greatest leaders," Alfred affirmed.

"Why do you think we added 'the Great' to the end of his name, dipshit?" the white-haired nation spat. He didn't like where this was going.

Alfred nodded, as if that explained everything. "So Ludwig, would you say that Hitler got his motivation from this Frederick, who ruled over Prussia, and made Gilbert a powerful nation?"

"I guess-" Ludwig was cut off.

"What the fuck are you getting at?" Gilbert spat. He didn't appreciate his beloved king being used as a scapegoat.

"Silence!" Ivan yelled.

"Ludwig, do you think that Gilbert could perhaps have corrupted Hitler by using his old king and, in turn, corrupt you in the process?" Francis was a damned traitor!

"Shut the fuck up!" Gilbert screamed, leaping forward, only to be stopped by his restraints. They were surprisingly strong.

"I suppose…"

"You're fucking lying!"

"Gilbert, be quiet!" Kiku hissed. The Allies gave his a surprised look, remembering that he was still there.

"Would you agree, Ludwig, that the root of all evil in Germany is Prussia? He is the one who raised you, after all."

"You're a damned liar, you American pig!"

"If you put it that way…"

"Don't fucking listen to them, West!" Gilbert was slowly losing control, a feeling that terrified him, Kiku knew. The man had always been cool-headed in situations, but the Japanese man could see that he was becoming nervous.

What did the others gain by turning his brother on him like this? Unfortunately, Kiku knew exactly what was happening. They were trying to blame him for the war, when it was clearly Hitler's fault. What did they think that would do? Sure, Gilbert was a little bit of a blood-luster; he had been built for war, after all. But that was no reason to pin something like this on him when he was simply a pawn in that crazy man's scheme.

Everyone had been. Even Kiku…

"Do you agree that getting rid of the source of the problem will fix it?"

_Oh, no…_

Gilbert turned a red eye to his little brother, who was staring at the ground.

"I… I mean… I guess that's… the most logical assumption…"

Kiku's heart dropped.

"West… no…" Gilbert breathed, eyes wide. "You can't…"

"If we were to dissolve the country of Prussia, would you stand behind it?"

Ludwig was silent for a long while. The air in the room was tense, everyone waiting on the edge of their seats.

"West…"

Ludwig shot his brother an apologetic look, and Gilbert's face fell. Kiku felt his stomach drop. Did the others really plan on going through with this?

Ludwig turned his blue eyes to the Allied Powers. "I will support your decision."

"Nein!" Gilbert's cry was desperate.

"Then it is decided," Alfred said. He shuffled some papers on the table before him before picking up a pen and scribbling something on one of them. The paper passed to Arthur, then Francis. It made its way through all the Allies before the American got up and made his way to the three Axis countries. He stood before Kiku for a moment before undoing the restraints and letting them fall to the floor.

"Sign here, please," he said, leading him to the table and pointing to a spot on the paper.

"Law #46" was the title of the page that stood before him.

Kiku took a deep breath, then reached down and took the pen in his hand. He noticed that both Feliciano and Lovino had already signed it. Apparently, they were still too afraid to appear in public.

And then Kiku did something that he would forever regret.

He signed the document that officially dissolved the Kingdom of Prussia.

Once the deed was done, Yao came over and took him by the arm, leading him towards the door. Kiku glanced back as they walked. Alfred had freed Ludwig and was standing with him where Kiku had been just moments before.

"West…" Gilbert pleaded. Ludwig looked back at him. "West, please. Don't do this. I would never do anything to hurt you. It was all that man's fault. He poisoned your mind. He's the mastermind behind it all. Not me."

"Ludwig," Alfred warned.

"I was the one who read you bedtimes stories," Gilbert continued frantically. "I gave you presents on your birthday. We used to go out riding every week and climb trees. I'd sing to you when you were ill."

Alfred locked eyes with Ivan and jerked his head in Gilbert's direction. The Russian stood and slowly made his way to the captive man.

"I gave you food and shelter!" Gilbert rushed, eyes flicking nervously as Ivan came closer.

"Will you shut him up?" Francis asked, though he refused to look over.

"I held you when you were scared!" Gilbert was shouting now.

"Ivan, do something!" Francis called.

"Why would I do all of that if I was just brainwashing you?"

Arthur shot to his feet as Gilbert began thrashing in his chair. "For heaven's sake!" Ivan hurried forward.

"West, I did it because I love you!" Gilbert yelled. Ivan came behind him and held him in place. Francis also began to make his way towards him, a small plank of wood in his hands.

"Sign the damn form!" Alfred demanded, glaring at the brothers.

"I'm sorry…" Ludwig muttered, then clicked the pen that Alfred handed him and signed the paper.

"Nein!" Gilbert howled. He gazed with horror at his brother. Arthur joined the other blondes at the front of the table.

"It's over," Alfred said. He looked back at where the two Asian nations stood, having paused in their exit. "Get him to sign the form. We'll be taking our leave now." Yao nodded and quickly moved back to stand beside Ivan and Gilbert. Kiku slipped into the shadows, feeling that he at least owed his friend the decency to watch his demise. Alfred turned his gaze to Ivan. "I'll trust you to send the proper documents?"

"Of course," Ivan replied.

With a nod, he turned and began to guide Ludwig out of the room, Arthur following closely and Francis hurrying after them after handing Yao the wood.

"Nein!" Gilbert cried as Yao forced a pen into his hand and began to drag it across the paper in a signature. Ivan plucked the wood from the small man's hand. "Ludwig, nein! You can't leave me like this! You can't do this to me!"

Ludwig's back twitched as Gilbert used his real name.

"West!" Gilbert called desperately. "West, come back! Help me! Don't leave! Don't leave me!"

The wood was pressed into his mouth between his teeth as Yao finished forcing his name. Once the ink was completely dry, a horrible, pained scream tore through the room.

Ludwig passed Kiku and caught his eye, quickly looking away in shame. As the blonde nations left the room completely, Kiku allowed his own eyes to slip shut.

"Ludwig!" Gilbert was yelling. He was bleeding from the chest, right over where his heart was. "Ludwig, come back!"

The door closed.

Gilbert kept screaming out.

Kiku didn't how he was supposed to tell him that his brother had completely abandoned him…

000000000000000

The fifth was Hungary.

Gilbert and Elizaveta went way back. They had grown up together, fought together, played together, and gotten into so much trouble together. The two of them had been thick as thieves and where one went, the other was not far behind. Gilbert lived to fight, and Elizaveta just loved to fight.

Sure, they had their arguments, but their friendship had been so strong that they always came back to each other in the end.

Until Roderich came into the picture.

Gilbert had never liked him. They were from the same blood, both had German floating in their veins. But where Gilbert had fought for the right to survive and everything he had was by his own hands, Roderich had simply waltzed right in and suddenly had it. He acted like he was so much better than everyone else, scoffing at their ways, the dirt on their hands, the mud on their boots.

Elizaveta hadn't liked him at first either.

But when she figured that wasn't simply "one of the guys," she hadn't known what to do. Everything that she had been taught, everything she learned, was a complete and total lie. She had no idea how to be a girl. Gilbert was no help, though it wasn't for lack of trying. He had hardly ever been around women before, so he was just as confused as she was.

There was only person that she knew of that could teach her.

Of course, Gilbert had been against the idea from the get-go. The tantrum he threw when she told him was spectacular, and the two had wrestled on the ground as the albino tried to force her to stay.

Elizaveta had obviously won the match, and off to Roderich she went.

The training was difficult, and Elizaveta had a hard time understanding all the rules. There were times that she had been so close to giving up.

And then Gilbert would show up in the middle of the night. He'd crawl up to her bedroom window and knock on the glass until she let him in. She would rant and rave about her lessons, about how much she would rather be out climbing trees with her favorite knight.

Gilbert, surprisingly, told her to suck it up and deal with it, not try and convince her to give up. She was the one who got herself into it, and now she had to see it through. He was challenging her.

And Elizaveta Héderváry never backed down from a challenge.

Somewhere along the way, in between the lessons and the yelling and the confusion… Elizaveta fell in love. It was the way that Roderich looked at her. The way he smiled a smile reserved just for her. The songs he wrote for her. The light touches. The kisses at night as they lay under the covers together…

Elizaveta still remembers the look Gilbert's face as she told him that they were getting married.

After that, she hardly saw her friend. He disappeared for a while, and the next time she saw him, they were on the battle field with each other once more, only this time, they were on opposite sides.

It went on like that for decades. They were no longer friendly rivals, but simply rivals. She hated him for trying to hurt Roderich, and he hated her for leaving him.

It wasn't until they were both living with Ivan under the rule of the Soviet Union that their friendship was resurrected. Gilbert was alone, no longer a country, and Elizaveta was angry, brooding, and had nothing else to do. Somehow, they had found solace in one another, and it helped get them through.

But Elizaveta was never meant to be caged.

Of course, neither was Gilbert, but his situation was different. So Elizaveta left him out of her plans, crept around him in secret, and told him nothing.

Besides, it was probably better that he didn't know. The less, the better.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

The night that she marched up to Ivan and told him that she was no longer going to stand for what he had been doing was one of the greatest nights she would ever remember.

The night that she finally escaped the Russian was one of the worst.

She had brushing her hair in front of the mirror that hung above her dresser when Gilbert had knocked on her door before letting it creak open a tiny bit. Elizaveta smiled at him and he grinned back before pushing the door open the rest of the way and entering. He crossed over to her bed and sat down on it, leaning back on his arms as he watched her silently.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her green eyes meeting his red ones in the mirror.

"I guess," he shrugged, still watching. "How's the fight going?"

"Oh, Gilbert, it's amazing!" she gushed, setting her brush down and turning around to look at him. "Everyone is almost done! The officials called a ceasefire!"

The albino's face remained impassive. "So I guess you'll be leaving any day now, then?"

Elizaveta's face fell. "Well don't sound too excited."

Gilbert frowned and looked away. "Sorry…"

Mirroring her friend's expression, the Hungarian woman pushed off from the dresser to sit beside him. "What's wrong?"

Gilbert tensed his jaw. "Nothing."

"Bullshit," Elizaveta growled.

"Ooh, swearing. Don't let your husband hear you talk like that."

"_Ex_-husband."

"Fine… 'lovers,' then."

"As if. We're just friends."

"More like 'friends with benefits,' if you ask me." A smirk.

Elizaveta snorted. "What does that make you and me then, jerk?"

"Awesome."

The brunette rolled her eyes. At least Gilbert was smiling again. Frowning really didn't suit him. She used her elbow to gently bump him in the side. "Seriously, what's gotten into you?"

Gilbert was silent before he let himself fall on his back on the bed. "Just… gonna be quiet around here without you…"

"You could stand to make some noise, you know," Elizaveta said softly. She followed his example and lay beside him. "You've been quiet, lately…"

A snort. "Getting placed under a Communistic government with orders to stay away from everyone who's not Soviet Union can do that a guy."

Elizaveta scowled. "It's not _that_ bad…" she said.

"Then why the revolution, Liz?"

She didn't have an answer to that.

Gilbert sighed. "Besides," he continued. "At least you're still a country…"

"You're a country too," Elizaveta defended.

"Yeah, 'cause being East Germany is so glamorous…"

"Better than nothing."

Silence.

Elizaveta turned her head to look at him. Gilbert was staring at the wall, a sad look on his face. "Gil?" she called.

Gilbert's eyes closed. "Gonna miss ya'," he muttered.

Sighing Elizaveta reached over and took one of his pale hands in her own. He started at the touch, and opened his eyes to gaze at her. She strategically avoided them.

"I can't take you with me, Gilbert," she whispered. "You know I can't."

She could practically feel his scowl. "Why the fuck not?"

"You know why…"

Gilbert wrenched his hand from her grasp. "That's never stopped you before."

"That was different!" It was Elizaveta's turn to scowl.

"How?" Gilbert questioned, glaring. "As far as I'm concerned, it's the same damned thing! Only this time, you could take me! Ivan's gonna let you go, and you could take me with you! I know you're strong enough!"

"This isn't about whether or not I'm strong enough!" Elizaveta snapped. "It's because I'm not a spoil of war! I didn't ask to be here!"

The minute the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. The way that Gilbert looked at her, like all the fight had left him, was heartbreaking.

"Gil, I-" she began, but he scowled at her, his walls back up.

"Forget it," he muttered, and sat up.

Elizaveta followed suit and reached out a hand to grab him, but Gilbert was on his feet before she could even grasp his shoulder.

"I didn't ask to be here, either," he told her. "And I sure as hell didn't ask to lose my country. So you can just take whatever excuse you're going to come up with and shove up your ass." He started towards the door.

"Gil, wait!" she cried, and stood as well, quickly catching his arm at the elbow before he could leave. "I didn't mean what I said."

The only response she got was a glare.

"You know I would take you with me if I could."

"What're you going to do when you get out, Lizzy?" Gilbert asked, eyes narrowed. "You're strong, but not strong enough to survive on your own."

"I'll go live with Roderich for a little," she defended. "He'll let me stay until I can get caught up again."

Just as Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, an enraged scream sounded through the house, shaking the foundation. Both of their heads turned to the open door before they glanced at each other. They hurried to the hall, where a trembling Toris stumbled up to them.

"I don't think you'll be leaving tonight, Miss Héderváry," he said. "In fact, I suggest that you hide as soon as possible."

"What's going on?" Gilbert asked, reaching out a comforting hand to the shaking man.

"Apparently, a party to take you away," Toris nodded at Elizaveta, "has arrived at the house. Ivan is very angry, and has refused their requests at relinquishing you."

Elizaveta scowled. "He can't do that! I am allowed to leave, and he has no right to keep me here any longer!"

"I understand," Toris said. "But he is-"

"Where is she?" an angry voice cried. "She will not leave! She is a part of this family and I say that she will not leave!" The steps to the second floor shook as heavy footsteps pounded up them.

"I suggest that you run," Toris suggested. He let out a small squeak as a large shadow appeared around the corner. He ducked into an empty room and quietly shut the door behind him.

"That bastard!" Elizaveta hissed. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Lizzy…" Gilbert warned, watching with worried eyes as Elizaveta pushed up the sleeves to her shirt and started forward.

"I earned my freedom!" she glared back him. "It's only right that he let me go!"

Ivan rounded the corner, violet eyes landing on the source of his anger. "You!" he exclaimed, and began to stomp forward. "You will not leave, do you hear me?"

"I can do whatever I-" her response what cut off as Gilbert grabbed her hand and pulled her back. He began to run as he pulled her along, hurrying down the long hall.

"Hey!" Elizaveta cried. "What the fuck, Gilbert?"

"You're really dumb, you know that?" he turned to shoot her a glare before turning a corner and hurrying down the steps at the other end of the house. Ivan thundered after them. "You can't take him on when he's this mad!"

"I can take on anyone, anytime!" Elizaveta defended, not liking being called a coward. Gilbert was the coward! He was the one running away!

"Not now, you can't!"

They reached the bottom of the steps and Gilbert looked both ways briefly before tugging her down a different hall.

"Gilbert, I can take care of myself!" she said, trying to take her hand back, but Gilbert only held on tighter.

"I never said you couldn't," Gilbert told her as they rounded another corner.

"Then why are you dragging me away?"

"Will you just trust me for once?" Gilbert shot her an annoyed and angered look over his shoulder.

Elizaveta glared, but kept her mouth shut. After a few more twists and turns, they climbed the steps once more and hurried down a hall that Elizaveta had never been in before. But Gilbert seemed to know where he was going, and just as the sound of footsteps caught up to them, he rounded another corner and pulled her into a dark room. Without turning on any lights, he gently shut the door behind them and led Elizaveta further into the room.

When they reached the closet, he pulled open the door and let go of her hand. Kneeling on the floor, Gilbert pushed some boxes and other things away before running his hand over the wooden floor.

As Elizaveta watched, Gilbert lifted part of the floor up to reveal a hidden passage. He turned and looked at her.

"This'll lead you out to the backyard," he said. She kneeled down beside him, eyes wide. "You'll come up right outside the garden. Find the party that's come to get you and run like hell."

"Gilbert, how did you find this?" she asked.

"I got bored before you got here," he said. She punched him in the arm. "What the fuck was that for?" he rubbed the spot, glaring at her.

"For not telling me about this before!"

Footsteps outside the door came closer. They could hear doors being kicked open as Ivan searched for them.

"Get going!" Gilbert hissed, and began to shove her towards the opening. "Watch the climb down, it gets slippery at the bottom."

Elizaveta paused, frowning. "What about you?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip. "When Ivan's finds out that you helped me, he'll-"

"Don't worry about me," he told her. He reached into the small pocket of his shirt and placed a piece of folded paper in her hand. "Give that to West for me, will you?"

"Gilbert…" she breathed, fingers curling around the note.

"Enough!" he barked quietly, pushing her down the hole. She felt her feet make contact with the metal rung of a ladder. The door of the room next to theirs could be heard breaking open. "Go!"

"Gilbert, wait, I-"

She was cut off as he gently slammed the trap door over her head. He heard some shuffling, and when she tried to push the door up, it wouldn't budge. Gilbert had placed the boxes back over it.

A loud bang reached her ears, and she could only assume that Ivan had burst into the room.

"Where is she?" she heard the Russian snarl, proving her correct.

"Gone," Gilbert's voice was muffled.

Ivan screamed, and the floor above her shook. There was a distorted cry and then a thump. The sound of something being dragged across the room, and then silence.

Elizaveta trembled and shakily climbed down the ladder, completely blind. When her feet met solid ground, her legs collapsed under her and she fell the floor.

Clutching the letter that Gilbert had given her, she let the tears stream down her face, unable to hold them in anymore.

She had just deserted her best friend to a fate worse than anything she could imagine.

She should have taken him with her, just like he'd wanted her too. Then he might not have to face whatever punishment Ivan was going to give him. She should have stayed with him and helped him fight Ivan off. She should go back to house and knock Ivan's teeth out.

But she was free, and Elizaveta couldn't bring herself to go back.

And so she left…

000000000000000

Through all the good things and the bad things that happened in Gilbert's life, there was one who stuck with him through everything.

And no one probably even noticed it.

Arthur sighed as he climbed the hill, a bundle of flowers in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. His suit jacket was unbuttoned and a few sweat droplets fell from his hairline and down the back of his neck.

When he finally reached the top, he scowled at the rest of his party.

"Thanks for waiting," he huffed, setting the beer on the ground and holding the flowers in his teeth as he shrugged out of his jacket.

Francis offered him a smile. "We wanted to get to the top before dark."

"Si, it's not our fault that you're slow," Antonio agreed, patting his pockets down.

"Fuck you," Arthur said, folding his jacket and placing it neatly on the blanket that the other two had spread out. He took his seat and looked over at their fourth member.

Gilbert was sitting on the ground with his back against the stone. He grinned when he saw the beer that Arthur had brought.

"Hey, thanks for bringing the beer!" he exclaimed.

Antonio grabbed a can and cracked it open. "We bring you only the best, Gil," he said, and took a swing.

"Because any other would be unawesome," Francis added, and followed his friend's example.

"Got that right, Francis!" Gilbert said. He looked at Arthur, who rolled his eyes and set the can he just opened on the ground in front of the pale man. Gilbert grinned. "That's more like it!"

Grinning despite himself, Arthur shook his head and opened another can for himself.

"Did you have to pick the highest hill?" he asked.

"I like the view," Gilbert told him, shrugging.

"Oui, it's a beautiful place," Francis sighed, looking at the horizon. The sun was just about to set, and the sky was full of color, a dark black inking its way in.

"Did Ludwig come visit earlier?" Antonio wondered, pointing to the small stuffed panda at Gilbert's side.

"Ja," Gilbert said. "Came by this morning. He said he couldn't stay long because he had to go to work."

"I think Feli drove him," Francis added. "Was going to pick him up at the end of the day and spend the night with him... if you know what I mean."

Antonio snickered.

"Good," Gilbert scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He could use some relaxation time. Feli can definitely help with that."

"Must you be so vulgar?" Arthur chided, gulping down another mouthful of beer. He winced. "This is horrible. I don't understand why you like this so much."

"Hey! That's classic German beer!"

"When you're friends with Gilbert, you learn to appreciate his taste," Francis said.

"I'll bring some of my brother's beer next time I come. At least his Irish ass can make decent alcohol."

"You saying there's something wrong with my beer?" Gilbert narrowed his eyes and the two of them had an intense stare-down.

Antonio laughed. "There's nothing wrong with Gil's beer, Arthur," he grinned. "You each just have your own tastes."

"Mine is just more awesome."

Arthur scoffed and drained the rest of the can. Gilbert snickered. "You like it enough to drink the whole thing."

"Quiet, you."

Francis and Antonio exchanged amused looks.

"So what's been going on, guys," Gilbert asked, pulling a leg up and resting his chin on his knee. "West said that you and Lovino were finally getting hitched."

"Ah, I almost forgot to tell you!" Antonio exclaimed, clapping a hand to his cheek. "Lovino said yes! We set the date last week! The wedding's going to be November."

"Why so late?" Gilbert sniffed, wrinkling his nose.

"That way, when the colors change, everything will be even more beautiful," Antonio said wistfully. "It'll be so romantic!"

Gilbert turned to Francis and pointed a finger at him. "This was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Of course, it was all my idea," Francis agreed, chuckling. "Antonio just left that part out when he proposed the idea to little Lovi."

Arthur face-palmed.

Gilbert laughed and turned an approving red eye to the Spaniard. "Well, I hope it's the best wedding ever."

"I'd ask you to be my best man," Antonio said softly, fiddling with his beer can, refusing to look anywhere else. "But under the circumstances…"

Everyone fell silent.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Oh, mon ami…" Francis said when Antonio sniffed quietly. The brunette waved him off as he wiped his face on his sleeve.

"I'm okay," he said. "I don't want to ruin the happy moment."

Gilbert frowned. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's not you're fault, Gil," Antonio soothed. "I'm just a big sap."

Francis sighed. "On a happier note, Arthur and Alfred finally confessed their feelings for each other."

Arthur turned beet red and sputtered. "You frog, that is none of your business!"

Gilbert cackled, and even Antonio smiled.

The Frenchman shrugged. "It's true, though!"

"Why don't you tell the whole world, then!"

"Splendid thought! Hey, world! Arthur and Alfred are finally banging one another!"

With a howl, Arthur launched himself at Francis. The two rolled around on the ground as Antonio and Gilbert watched and laughed.

The two stopped when Francis hit his head on a small stone, dazing him slightly.

"What the…?"

Antonio crawled over to where the two were kneeling, staring at the small cross in the dirt.

"Oh, no…" Antonio breathed, and he felt tears well up in his eyes again.

"Ja…" Gilbert said, still sitting against the stone.

"The poor thing," Francis agreed. "How long has it been?"

"Last month," the pale man said, sighing. "He finally couldn't fly anymore. West found him and dug a grave."

"I haven't seen him for months…" Antonio supplied. "Usually he's the first to greet us when we come here."

No one spoke for a long time until Antonio sniffed again. Francis looked up at Arthur, a devastated expression on his face.

"I can clean up," Arthur told him softly. "Meet you two down at the car…"

Francis nodded and stood up, helping a teary Antonio. "Thanks, Arthur," he murmured. He and the brunette turned to Gilbert. "See you soon, mon ami."

"Ja," Gilbert said, watching as the two slowly made their way down the hill. "Thanks for coming…"

Arthur remained kneeling at the little cross for a while before sighing and turning to Gilbert, who was watching him with a neutral expression.

"He been around yet?" he asked, standing up. "I know that you were quite fond of him."

Gilbert shook his head. "Not since it happened. I hope he shows up soon. It gets lonely when no one else is here."

Arthur slowly packed up the remaining beer and lay the flowers next to Gilbert. After pausing for a moment, he plucked a single one out and placed it under the tiny cross. He then folded up the blanket and turned to look at the albino.

"Have you tried calling him?" he asked.

Gilbert nodded. "He won't come. I'm kind of worried. I mean, I know he's a bird and everything, but he usually comes when I call him. At least, he did when he was alive…"

"You can always move on, you know…" Arthur said quietly.

"I am not leaving without him!" Gilbert glared at him. "He's never left me! Never! If you think that-"

"Alright, alright!" Arthur cut him off. "No need to get your panties in a twist!"

The two were silent.

"I mean…" Gilbert said. "He's been with me through everything. Not once has he left my side. And I mean… he's all I have left… I can't go on without him…"

"You're scared," Arthur told him.

Gilbert seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment before dropping his head in defeat. "Ja…" he replied. "He's always been there for me, and I… I don't want to do this without him… I _can't_ do this without him…"

Arthur sighed. "Call him again," he told the Prussian. Gilbert looked at him in surprise.

"I already told you, he-"

"My reach into the spirit world is much farther than you think," the Briton said. Gilbert scowled. "Just call him one last time, and if he doesn't come, then I'll let the matter drop."

Gilbert nodded and stood. Arthur closed his eyes and concentrated as he took a deep breath and looked up into the air.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Get you're little ass over here! I need you here right now!"

There was silence. Arthur clenched his eyes tighter and furrowed his brow.

Nothing.

He opened his eyes and stared sadly at Gilbert, who looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Gilbert shook his head. "It's okay. Thanks for-" he stopped midsentence and his face morphed into a grin as he stared over Arthur shoulder. The blonde turned around, squinting, as a small dot in the sky got bigger and bigger.

"Gilbird!" the albino cried, and the small yellow chick flew right to him, landing on an outstretched bony finger. Gilbert brought him to his face and the bird nuzzled his cheek affectionately.

Arthur smiled.

"I didn't think you'd ever come!" Gilbert exclaimed, and pulled his hand away to properly look at the little animal. "It's been so quiet without you!"

Gilbird chirped in response.

Gilbert turned to Arthur. "Thanks so much, Arthur!" he said enthusiastically. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"I still don't see why you're so fond of the thing," Arthur said, though he couldn't hide the amusement in his voice. "He's just a little bird. Francis has got a dozen of his own Pierre's."

The man ran a gentle finger over the chick's head, who cheeped happily. "He's been with me for as long as I can remember," he said fondly. "I found him when he had fallen from his nest and nursed him back to health. Turns out some of my immortality transferred to him at that time, and he's been with me ever since. Got me through all the changes in my life, stayed with me when I was scared. Played with me when I was lonely. Cheered me up when I was sad. Gave me courage when I thought I was never going to survive. Hope in the dark…"

He looked up at Arthur. "He's never left me, even when everyone else had taken off and not looked back."

Arthur felt a warm feeling settle in his chest. "I'm glad I could help," he said softly.

Gilbird chirped loudly and flew into the air, buzzing in circles around his friend's head before landing on his shoulder. He pecked at the cross pendant around his neck so much that it came undone, at which point he took it in his mouth and took to the sky. Gilbert grinned.

"Hey!" he cried, chasing after the little bird as it flew around just out of his reach in circles over the hill. "Gilbird, give that back! You've got your own!"

Smiling at the ex-nation's antics, Arthur shook his head and gathered up the blanket and beer. He began the trek down the huge hill, Gilbert's laughter echoing in the air after him.

When he got to the bottom, Francis and Antonio were waiting for him with the car. He gently set the supplies in the trunk, closing it tightly. The sun had set quite some time ago, and the moon was just coming up over the hill.

Instead of seeing a man trying to catch a silly little bird, the full moon outlined the top of the hill, where a single tree stood. Underneath was the silhouette of a tiny little cross grave sitting directly next to tombstone.

Arthur smiled once more.

Even if people had left him all his life, at least Gilbert had Gilbird, who would stick by him even into death.

* * *

><p>Yays! Ending! :D<p>

Did anyone guess who it was? Did I trick anyone into believing that Gil was still alive? Huh? Huh? *Calms down*

I get a little over-excited...

Now, more notes!

**1) As I stated previously, I like to picture HRE being older than Prussia. Plus, I think that everything that I read on it said that it was... but for the sake of my headcanon, that's how I view it. I also don't really support the whole "Germany is HRE" thing, unless it's well written or I see something that changes my mind for that period of time. I don't care if you disagree with me, that's my view. In this case, this part takes place before HRE goes to live with Austria and Hungary and Chibitalia. That's why he was so excited about having someone to take care of when Germania adopted Prussia. And I normally don't put anything about prayer in my stories, but I think that, around this time, Gilbert would be representing the Teutonic Knights, so he'd be kinda religious. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.**

**2) For this one, I tried to be as historically accurate as I could. From what I could find, *cough*Wikipedia*cough* France was the nation that ultimately brought the fall of the HRE. If I'm wrong, then so be it, but just go with that for the time being.**

**3) Now, I am a firm shipper of Fritz/Prussia, in almost any type of relationship between the two, but for this one, I was going towards a "Father/Son" feel. That's why I had Prussia destroy the room afterwards. It's how I view him dealing with the grief of losing a parent. I apologize if I made it seem otherwise. I know the whole "going into his room for the whole night" thing probably made it seem like a slash pairing, but I have a headcanon that the both of them suffered from serious nightmares, and that when they were sleeping together, it made it seem less scary. As for Tanner, it's just a man I made up, with help for the name chosen by my friend. It's a German name, and I wanted someone to see Prussia freak out. Thus, he was born. He will never appear again. I hate OC's, so once I use them once, they are gone for good. Moving on...**

**4) This one... Gave me so much trouble. I've wanted to write this scene for ages, and I'm so happy that I finally got to. The only problem, though, is that I wrote the whole scene out, realized that I had told the entire thing from Prussia's view instead of someone viewing Prussia, and had to try to re-write it with someone else. I ended up getting really lazy and didn't want to wreck my masterpiece, so I just kinda threw Japan in there. There are parts where you can totes tell what I did, but I really, REALLY didn't want to write it again. So I deeply apologize for it being so stupid. In this interpretation, I see the Allies as trying to get rid of Prussia because he scares them. He's a warring nation, and they fear his rise to power. Hitler was also greatly influenced by Old Fritz, so I have the Allies as seeing him as "brainwashing" Ludwig into doing all the horrible things. Francis didn't want to do it, but France did. That's why he was having such a hard time with it. The wood that was between Gil's teeth was so that when he was dissolved (which I picture as a huge gouge in the heart), he wouldn't bite his tongue off in pain. (Law #46 is the one that officially dissolves Prussia. Had to put it in there.)**

**5) Another scene that I've wanted to write for ages. In 1956, the country of Hungary began a revolution against the Soviet Union and broke away. I have always pictured that Ivan just wanted a huge family, so that's why he kept everyone on such a short leash. When Hungary left, he was very scared, and didn't want her to leave because that meant that one of his family was leaving, and he didn't want anything bad to happen to her. But he doesn't really know how to express his feelings, so he just gets angry and tries to make her stay. Gilbert represents East Germany at this time, and is forced to stay, especially since he was given to Ivan after the war as a sort "prize," if you will.**

**The one that stayed:**

**1) Gilbird! I originally had no idea who I was going to pick for this one, and it took me a while. I purposely tried to be as vague as possible, so that I could keep you guessing. In my head, I've got Gilbird being there for Gilbert through everything, and Gilbert looking at the little chick as his closest and best friend in the world. I normally don't like writing my favorite character into death, but it just worked so well! And since Gilbird had some of Prussia's immortality transferred to him, when Prussia died, it was only a matter of time before he died as well. He would sit on Prussia's tombstone every day, tweet a song, and greet the people that came to visit. Then one day, when Germany came to visit, he found the little bird dead and buried him next to his brother. As for Arthur, I added him in here because I really like writing him. Not only that, but since he can see mystical creatures and ghosts, I imagine that Gilbert is too afraid of what lays beyond to go by himself. So he was waiting for his trusty pal, only Gilbird got lost in the spirit world. Arthur makes lots of trips to Gilbert's grave because Gilbert gets lonely with no one to talk to. (That, and I'm a closet PrUK fan...)**

Well, I think that's all I have... if anything confuses you, just let me know! I'm trying this new thing where I try to respond to everyone's review... So far, it's not really working so well, but I'm trying!

This story is brought to you by the letter "R." Please review!


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